


The Art of Dissociation

by wiltedneck



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bulimia, Cutting, Depression, Dissociation, Self Confidence Issues, Self Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedneck/pseuds/wiltedneck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sooo... I'm not so good at dealing with stress. My psychologist actually pointed out that stress could cause me to dissociate, mildly. From there I tried to capture how that dissociation felt for me. The poem evolved to be also about coping techniques I utilized following my dissociation, depending on how quickly I felt I needed to "come back down to earth" (if you will).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Dissociation

**The Art of Dissociation**

_I: Prepare to Check Out_

in four, three, two, one—  
liftoff.  
  
let your consciousness stream from the beds beneath your fingernails,  
the corners of your eyes, and the weeping membrane of your nostrils.  
buoyant, let it drop that stress roping it to your skull, let yourself drift

away  
and promise to never come back.

they say it's dangerous to let yourself go in such total, entire capacity.  
sure, a defense mechanism, but dangerous nonetheless. "they" is  
such a vague appeal to the majority. fallacies are dangerous too.  
  
what do they know about the way waves of panic crash over you,  
spiriting your feeble mind into the ragged rocks, turning to tatters  
any tiny convictions you'd created? forcing you to forget which way  
is up? what could they understand about how successfully you can  
eject yourself from these useless feelings? no. no, let them keep their  
consciousness. let them savor their highs and lows and learn from  
their mistakes. you have an escape pod; you'd be a fool not to fly.

home in these raging bass notes,  
tickled by the nothingness in the lyrics,  
breath deep, shut your body;  
you need not return.

_II: Re -entering Your Atmosphere_

_how soon will you leave us?_  
the clouds always ask so sweet;  
naive, childlike, they always wonder when you leave.

the answer is usually a mystery in this state of vaporous thought, emotion, and senselessness.

if you're alone, in a rush, still feeling vacant and light headed from your ascent  
I recommend a cold cloud of ice crystals.  
roll your body through them:  
a wrist if you're feeling cliché, a shin if you need an easy lie,  
behind your ear if desperation for sensuality drove you to float away.

it will lance, purely physical,  
landing you precisely back  
in your redundant form.  
this is a quick solution, and  
reliable, though some take  
issue with the matter of bloodstains.

if you're surrounded and just scared enough to avoid the motion of life for the rest of your conscious day,  
I recommend some melodies with bitter lyricists and gentle, if dissonant, chords.  
I recommend laying down and breathing, just breathing. you're nothing more than breath.  
you're no longer even breath. enter your mindless sleep haven and

next thing you know you're awake and real again.  
this is generally understood to be a much more gradual  
acclimation to the massive, iron-welded chains of  
reality, and is considered much more socially acceptable.

you do run the risk, however, of waking up too soon

trapped in that awful purgatory  
of heart pounding aliveness and  
thoughtless floating, incapable  
of utilizing either. there you will  
merely feel all of your faculties  
failing and if you don't wretch in  
your mouth you will worry you  
are about to. this is the risk of sleep.

 

_III: So Remember_

to live

or float

but know your way back.  
don't get trapped  
partway in  
your body  
and partway  
out of your mind.


End file.
